


fortune and glory

by criminalbanshee



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/F, F/M, Haruno Sakura-centric, Kidnapping, MacGuffins, Stalking, Treasure Hunting, archeologist!sakura, someone please stop me from doing stupid shit to this story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criminalbanshee/pseuds/criminalbanshee
Summary: Treasure Hunting AU:Dr. Sakura Haruno made it her life's work to be one of  the select few that uncovered an ancient tomb hidden deep in the sands of Suna's vast desert. Inside are priceless gold artifacts, claimed by the public for the purpose of learning more about the elusive citizens of old. However, an item from their inventory found in the tomb failed to arrive at the Department of Anthropological Studies in the University of Konoha. Days later, our good Doctor is still pouring over what little evidence she has that the artifact even existed in the first place, when she, too disappears.
Relationships: Akatsuki (Naruto) & Haruno Sakura
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

Sakura knew she was up too late to be well-rested at this point. It wouldn’t be the first time she had stayed up to study an artifact, or script, or even essays from her students— _ and it wouldn’t be the last,  _ she thought, ruefully. __ She was already several cups of coffee deep into analyzing the images sprawled out in front of her. Papers, tomes, and scrolls were scattered across most of the surfaces in her home; articles and maps were taped to the walls when she needed them for bigger projects. However, Sakura’s mind had been solely focused on this new discovery, unwilling to let anyone steal this from her too—not when she was one of the few who had ever laid eyes on it, after thousands of years.

She jammed her palms into her eyes and took a few deep breaths. The pictures she had taken in the tomb were high-quality and she had taken as many as her camera roll would allow. The object itself was unassuming, small, and even though it was gold it did not appear to be all that valuable—the question just kept nagging at her mind. She sighed once again. No one would ever see it again, a unique piece of history which had passed hands for centuries before finding  it’s resting place hidden deep in the sands of Suna, which was lost to the world. She couldn’t do much else, but stare at the captured images before her.  _ Probably melted down and sold already. _ Her heart constricted at the thought of someone treating the culmination of her life’s research with such little thought.

Tomb raiders and gold thieves were commonplace in her line of work, but she just couldn’t see the value in the missing artifact. She couldn’t get the thought out of her mind— _ why? _ There were hundreds of other gold items that were probably worth much more than the small talisman. The pictures she had of the object itself are few and far between, only one image contained the talisman as the subject—she had expected to be able to examine it closer, to touch and  _ feel _ and take samples in the university lab.

When Sakura had informed Tsunade that the talisman was missing, she endured a front row seat to her boss’s temper. She had roared like some terrible hell-beast once Sakura showed her that the  documents they had received did not match their inventory. Sakura and  Shizune were quickly ordered to tear apart every crate, check their packaging, and carefully examine everywhere it could have hidden. By the time they were finished, the artifacts room was practically torn apart.  Shizune had examined every document and shipping manifest, Tsunade had called anyone and everyone they could find that helped ship, move or even examine the artifacts, demanding answers. After hours of searching, still, no one could find the talisman.

Sakura dragged her hands up her face and through her hair. She dragged herself to her kitchen and dumped the cold remains of her coffee-- the nagging voice in the back of her head told her that tea would be much better for her nerves, anyway. Waiting for water to boil, she took a few minutes to stretch and reorient herself with her surroundings. She craved the  hyperfocus that settled into her mind when she was working— _ really  _ working. Sure, teaching was nice and all, but there was a different kind of peace that settled into her mind when she was rediscovering a culture or handling an artifact that had passed a hundred hands before her. The times she had spent on her hands and knees, covered in dirt with the hot sun beating down on her surrounded by others with the same yearning for human connection, beyond the  _ now _ —she treasured those memories. Sakura smiled gently at the globe settled on her coffee table and absently rolled and turned it with her fingertips.  _ Where to next?  _ She shook herself from her thoughts for the moment, she would have to settle for one mystery at a time, for now. She pushed the heavy globe farther down the table, out of her reach and let her head fall back against the back of her old sofa.  _ Just for a few minutes, _ she thought.

lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

She wasn’t sure what had startled her but when Sakura woke next, it wasn’t to an empty apartment. She woke up in the startling way one would a nightmare; tense and alert. She opened her eyes to a shadowy figure looming above her, and a sweet-smelling cloth wrapped over her head and over her mouth with frightening precision. Sakura was unconscious once again before she could find the strength to struggle.

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

Sakura drifted in and out of consciousness, nauseous and weak. Sensations forced their way through her like hot flashes; a shoulder pressed into her stomach as she was jostled and carried, the heat of the sun glaring down at her, the cool shifts in temperature as she was limply tossed around and moved.  _ To another vehicle? _ She wasn’t sure. She just wanted to rest some more.  _ Maybe it’ll all go away. _ The next time she awoke, she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her temple against the unforgiving metal she was lying on. With a breath, two, she relaxed. She hoped that the rattling of her skull into the floor of the van would render her unconscious once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hopefully some world-building that makes sense lol: i really want sakura's driving force to be more than personal gain or proving herself to people who refuse to see her for what she is worth.

Sakura’s grandfather had raised her from a young age. With her parents gone from the world, they only had each other. He was well into his years, but would drag her around anywhere he could—always seeing new things, always  _ learning.  _ He was a fairly eccentric man, but he was always intent on tending to her, to make sure she grew and grew and grew like a weed and always finding new ways to survive in their world. They would lie down under the stars, and he would tell her tales of lost treasure and bandits and adventure. She had asked him, once—after naming the stars with him, how he thought up such bizarre stories. He had laughed, a bright, captivating thing, and wrapped his arm around her to drag her into his lap.

“You don’t believe me?” He had asked. When she twisted around to see his face, his expression was more sobering, and she found he wasn’t looking at her, but at the night sky once again. He let out a sigh that rumbled through her little bones. “All stories are born from some truth, Sakura; you would do well to remember that.” She had hummed genially in answer, Sakura wasn’t sure what it meant. She had been told she was a brilliant girl, but when an answer didn’t satisfy her, she would pick and prod and examine relentlessly. Her grandfather had encouraged this from an early age, but she struggled with restraint as she grew. She was stubborn and relentless in all things, sometimes even to the last line of his never-ending patience. He never roared, never yelled, but he would scold her and his words would lash and bite like whips.  _ Think for yourself, for once. _ He would say, eyes hard and narrowed.  _ If all you are able to do is repeat things others tell you; if you cannot look for yourself and see the truth in people—then you will die, as stupid and useless as they were.  _

By the time she was well into high school, her grandfather got sick. She took care of him as best she could, and he continued to teach her. Always teaching, always watering the seeds he had planted in her mind. With his dying breath, he had asked her to tell him a tale of lost treasure, bandits, and adventure. Sakura was left with his modest estate, the weeds twisted and wrapped into her mind. The man who had given her everything, who had taught her about people and monsters and monsters who pretended to be people—he had believed in those tales with such conviction, that they would be the last he heard. Sakura had felt like she would shatter and splinter away, but he had taught her how to prepare for this, too. For death. 

So, like a weed, she grew once more, finding cracks in the pavement to  _ grow _ . She went to the University of Konoha, where her father and grandfather had both studied, and  _ learned _ . About bones, and culture and rocks and people. She made new friends and learned ancient languages. She met Ino at Konaha U, and her roommate was intimidating, but human. The girls had fiery tempers and they promised to rule the world one day. 

“People are going to recognize our brilliance,” the blonde sat next to her, slumped and slurring, “they’re going to  _ see _ us—or I'll make them.”

They were set on different careers, but Sakura used to listen to stories about hags who wove strings of fate; they were marching down the same path, she was sure.

Sakura made it her complete business to hunt down stories that were lost to the world—to the people. She failed more often than she succeeded, but weeds didn’t stop growing because they had been trimmed. She wrote her thesis, graduated brilliantly, and traveled the world for a few years. The world and  it’s nations that she had only experienced through books and stories and behind clean-cut glass. When Sakura initially received the offer that she  teach at the University, she had promptly declined.  _ A caged bird _ , her grandfather’s voice echoed,  _ will never learn to fly.  _ However, when the most brilliant woman in their field, herself, arrived one day at a dig site Sakura was heading, she learned it was an offer she couldn’t afford to refuse. 

Tsunade Senju had taken up the mantle of Head of the Department of Anthropological Studies while Sakura had traveled, an alarming change coming from the fearsome woman. She had torn Sakura away from the dirt and dragged her into one of the tents. While Sakura was well aware that she, herself, didn’t have any degrees in decorum or manners—this woman was absolutely rude.  _ Some people are like the sun: bright, burning, and unbearable.  _

The fearsome woman had grinned and crossed her arms in front of her when they got into the tent.

“I worked under him, once.” She said. “He was a brilliant man.”

Sakura tried to speak neutrally. Of course, she knew. When Tsunade had begun to make it into scientific journals and history books, the man was still alive. It wasn’t often he was called brilliant—he was looked down on by the conventional, and publicly ridiculed when she lived with him. She wasn’t sure what the woman wanted to hear from her. 

Sakura’s brow twitched. “Yes,” She said, “he was.”

Tsunade, unaffected, continued on.

“He taught me a lot--crazy as he was.” Sakura bristled, but Tsunade leaned forward over the table. Sakura could see the glint deep in her eyes, could feel her breath moving her hair. “He taught me,” she whispered, “about the Lost Treasure of the Dawn.”

Sakura told her peers at the site that a family emergency came up, and she would not be able to assist them any longer. She left with Tsunade before the chill of night could set into her bones. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also idk if sakura's canon grandfather has a name (mostly i'm too lazy to check) and i haven't given his name much thought, either (lazinessss)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the doctor meets the people who stole her from her home, but is still unaware of the depth of her situation

Sakura was jostled awake violently. Someone had their grip on the crown of her skull and was shaking her head around. Her eyes snapped open to a dark room that spun and twisted with every shake. She felt groggy and unsettled, but she was otherwise in control of her faculties. She was still being shook around, though, and she groaned in protest. The noise didn’t make it much farther than the gag that cleaved through her mouth like a bit, pulling at her cheeks. This was enough to make them stop thrashing her skull around, but the dark room still spun. Her head would have lolled down again if the ripping grip on her scalp hadn’t remained. She blinked away the bleariness as best she could, and there was a huge, hulking figure towering a few feet away. Her ears were still ringing and alarm bells were roaring through her body.

The man behind her was speaking, a tenor with an edge to it, and his already vice-like grip tightened as he yanked her head straight back. Sakura grimaced and choked at the strain the hold put on her neck; breathing was uncomfortable in this position, but it brought her to meet striking pink eyes. His face contorted and he bared his teeth at her, his own hair falling forward. He clicked his tongue to his teeth.

“About time.” The grimace on his face shifted towards something sharper and his other hand came up and wrapped around the base of her neck. “I was starting to think Sleeping Beauty needed some better motivation.” Sakura’s breath caught in her throat. She was strapped to a sturdy chair, and couldn’t surge forward out of his hold. The man she first caught a glimpse of cleared his throat, and though the hands didn’t leave her, his eyes dragged away from hers and to the bulkier figure. Sakura tensed, but didn’t try to speak yet.

“That’s enough, Hidan.” The man rasped out the words, short and clipped. “We need her able enough to cooperate.”

The man holding her shoved her head forward with enough force that her chin clipped into her own sternum. He had to brush off strands of pink hair from his hand. Sakura brough her head up on her own accord and glared at the man in front of her. His glance passed over her like she was nothing, not even meeting her eyes. While the first one had seemed her age, this one was older, with scars running through the lines of his face. His back was facing a pair of smooth metal doors. There wasn’t much space to speak of in terms of width, but Sakura and  Hidan were at the farthest end from the scarred one. Despite being released from the blonde’s grasp, Sakura was beginning to have a tougher time breathing. She fought with shallow breaths in an effort to think clearly again. She heard  Hidan shifting somewhere beyond her left ear. 

“Yeah, yeah,” his voice was tense, “for the old shit, I know. But I have better things to do than babysit some bitch.” The other man only grunted in response. Within moments,  Hidan became irate once more—this time directed at the man a whole head taller than him. Their conversation was short, but telling.  Hidan hadn’t used the other man’s name yet, but Sakura was sure the police would identify him from her description once she escaped.  _ If  _ she was able to escape. A voice chided her from the back of her mind, and she knew she wasn’t seeing the whole picture.  _ Foolhardy treasure hunters, _ she thought,  _ would just take the information and kill her. _

Sakura strained her ears, past the one-sided bickering. There were openings lining the top of the walls, not quite big enough for her to fit through, but big enough to see the dark sky through. They had taken her to a shipping container, but there was nothing that indicated they were at the docks. She struggled to fight the ice that settled deep into her gut—she needed an out. She tried to grumble something past the gag, but the noises were garbled and choked at best.  Hidan turned back to her, eyes narrowed. 

“Hmm?” That dark glint returned to his eyes and the corners of his lips turned up. “I can’t understand you—you're going to need to speak clearer than that.” He threw his head back and laughed, unbound and resonating, like he was a novelty act. She glared and huffed, but it wouldn’t do much good. 

Before he could continue his prodding at her, the scarred one at the entrance received a call. She eyed him as he stepped out. She tilted her head to follow his movements, but  Hidan dropped an arm down over her, pinning her back to the chair and holding her there. He muttered something about the ropes she strained against before dropping his chin to her shoulder.

“Peeping?” She could hear the grin in his voice and held her breath, trying to meet his eyes. “I could show you a much better time than  Kakuzu ,” he purred, “he’s a mean old fuck when he wants to be.” Sakura flinched back, and he straightened and laughed again. She had only been conscious for a few minutes, but she was getting tired of being the butt of his sick jokes. She hoped they were jokes.

Kakuzu didn’t re-enter the container, but his scarred hand made a ‘come hither’ motion. She was thankful that  Hidan took the cue to leave, but her heart sank when he slammed the metal doors behind him and the walls shook with the force. She heard something slam down onto the metal, and Sakura was alone. 

With no one to touch her or stop her, Sakura tested her bindings, her arms were behind her back, tied at the wrist separately from her body, but her upper arms and chest were attached to the low back of the chair. Her ankles and knees weren’t attached to the chair, but were bound similarly. The rope was thick, and she couldn’t break it, but the ones keeping her to chair itself were looser than she expected. She wriggled and struggled, sinking lower to the chair. Maybe there was something at the back of the container she could use to cut the ropes around her wrists. Sakura used the soles of her feet for leverage and rolled her shoulders down as far as she could go. She huffed through the gag.  _ Amateurs. _

Once she was out of the chair, she was left lying on the cool floor. She rolled over, to finally glimpse behind her, but she wasn’t met with supplies or sharp objects. A man sat there leaning against the back wall, looking for all the world amused. She spat curses through the gag.  _ So much for not being the butt of the joke. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummmm just realized my italics aren't showing up when i add the text to each chapter and idk how to fix it 
> 
> c'est la vie tbh but if i can figure out how, ill go back and fix the chapters where its messed up


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i added a bit to the ending so its more of a cohesive chapter

Sakura could only imagine what she looked like to the man: wriggling down a chair and trying to inch her way towards the doors, like a worm. It was wholly undignified—but not doing anything and dying, surely, would be much worse. The light provided by small windows half-light his figure, but even without it she could’ve seen his hulking form; the man looked huge even sitting upright. He made to stand up, and she froze, breathing hard. 

“At least,” he drawled out, “no one can claim you didn’t try.” His grin was missing the sharpness Hidan’s had—but his teeth made up for the discrepancy in full. Sakura was not a small woman, but she was sure the man could crush her with little though. 

As he moved forward, he pulled out something that glinted in the light. Her wriggling began anew. His feet came to rest by her head, and she winced. Instead of the feeling of cool metal on her throat, however, he lifted her to sit upright, and sawed at the gag in her mouth. She grimaced when the mottled, chewed up piece of fabric, wet with spit and fell into her lap. He dropped down into a crouch in front of her, meeting her eyes. 

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here.” 

She huffed. “Care to tell me?” 

“Our organization has been informed that you may very well be the leading authority on something we’re looking for.” Sakura narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You may be in luck,” she swallowed, but her mouth had run dry, “I’m looking for something, too.” 

Something sharp flickered past the shadows on his face, before the toothy grin returned. 

“Now, I don’t see why we can’t help each other out, here, Doc.” 

The man introduced himself and clinically untied the ropes wrapped around her. He started with her ankles and then each set of ropes as he moved up. When Sakura was finally unbound, Kisame reached out a hand to her, and she narrowed her eyes at the offending appendage. 

“Awe,” he drawled, “I don’t bite.” He bared his teeth at her; two rows of them, filed down to points—the act did little to assuage the tension in her shoulders. She made no move to reach for him, and shuffled up onto her feet on her own. The walls of the shipping container spun past her eyes once more. She stumbled into the wall and propped herself up. He moved past her, to the entrance, and heaved the door open. There was more metal crashing, and she heard Hidan screeching something at the man. The sun was just about set, but the light that bleached across the sky let her peer into an open field. 

She moved to follow, but stepped back when the blonde man peered through the open doors. He squinted. 

“Hey,” he dragged out the sound, “what the hell is taking you so long? What are you slow?” 

Sakura jut out her chin and stiffly stepped out of the shipping container, and onto wet pavement. She didn’t have any shoes on, just a pair of fluffy socks Ino had gotten her, once. Once she was clear of the giant metal box, she saw that there was a large, industrial building to the left of her. They were in a shipping yard, of sorts, and multi-colored containers were stacked several stories high. She was beginning to feel terribly small, and she was grimly reminded of a story about a foolhardy boy who wanders to a land of giants in search of a golden egg. She swallowed. The giant had tried to eat him, hadn’t it? 

The tall, scarred man from earlier was nowhere to be seen, and Kisame was already yards away, headed into the building--she was left with Hidan, who leered at her. She twisted past him and moved as swiftly as she could. Her pulse rocketed through her skull with the effort, but she grit her teeth and focused on keeping one foot in front of the other. A chill settled into her limbs, and her socks were getting soaked from the cool rain. _You’ll do no good to anyone if you’re dead, girl._

Sakura followed Kisame through a door into the building, with Hidan at her heel. He was content enough to antagonize her, and made no move to lead her. The inside was packed with crates and boxes and machinery, much like the yard had been. When she stopped just inside the entrance, Hidan took it as an invitation to make her move with a bruising grip on her upper arm to drag her further in. Sakura sneered. 

“Keep your damn hands off me. I’m not some invalid.” 

“Really?” He sneered back. “Then fucking _move_.” 

Sakura tried to rip her arm back, but his grip held strong. He plowed forward and Sakura was practically dragged along, further in, until they reached an open mechanical lift that was underneath a walled in office. Kisame stood outside the door to it, and Sakura was suspicious of how he had gotten up there so quickly. Hidan didn’t relent his grip until they made it inside. The scarred one, from when she first woke up was sat at a desk with a desktop that had surely seen better days. Sakura’s jaw nearly dropped when she gazed around at the walls. Wall-to-wall, were transcripts of documents and research, articles and entries from scientific journals, her thesis—even candid pictures of her. In her office, through the window of her apartment, at the mall, even her and Ino drunk at a party on New Years Eve. Bile rose in her throat. 

“What is this?” She rasped. “Who the _hell_ do you think you are?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel super mega stupid but i finally figured out the italics sooooo im literally going back and adjusting the other chapters--thank you for your patienceeeee


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is short, i know but i'm not great at planning and it felt unnatural to try and extend it for the sake of word count--alsooo i added a little bit to the ending of the last chapter for the sake of readability.

_ Keep your secrets close, Sakura. Don’t let anyone see what you care about most—it will be used against you. _

Behind her, still at the entrance  Kisame let out a heavy breath.

“I had figured you put the pieces together by now. Who we are—what we  want. ” She whipped around to face him. He moved a hand to the back of his head and peered upwards. “But I guess even the renowned Doctor Haruno must have her off days.”

“From what I’d gathered—your goal wasn’t to stalk my friends and family.”  _ Not that you have many. _ “From what I’d gathered—your goal is reclaiming the  Zubunure Sea’s treasure.”

The scarred man spoke up, finally, and his voice sent chills reverberating through her spine.

“ _ Our  _ treasure—it belongs to the  _ Akatsuki.” _

Sakura blinked and tilted her head over her shoulder at him. 

“Then why don’t you guys have it already? Why do you need the help of a university professor to reclaim it?” She turned back to the two blocking her exit. “You stole the talisman, already—did it not have the answers you were looking for?” They blinked at her,  Hidan shifted and wouldn’t meet her gaze any longer. 

The white-hot ire that rose in Sakura’s chest made her want to explode—but when no one defended themselves, she didn’t yell. Her hands tightened into fists and she could feel her own nails biting into the flesh of her palms.

“You lost it.” The heat she felt bubbled up into hysteria. “You people  _ lost _ an artifact that even I haven’t had the chance to hold in my hands—an artifact that represents the truth behind a fairy tale; a legend in  it’s own right.” She sputtered. Her hands were waving now, and she was pacing, and her head  _ ached. _ “And you expect to me to—what, exactly? Magically give you answers? A map, maybe?” She was yelling now, and it only fed into the pounding in her temples—which only fed into her panic. 

Sakura stopped pacing and leant on the table for support. The room was still spinning as she leaned forward. She brought a hand up to massage the bridge of her nose.  _ What the hell had they given her? _

None of the three men answered, but the scarred one rose from his seat. He had a similar build to  Kisame , and had an awful presence in the small office. He dropped a thin manila folder onto the desk in front of her. It didn’t have the weight to slap dramatically down onto the table, but she felt it’s presence nonetheless. 

“Actually,” she wasn’t sure she could get used to that voice, “we already have a map.” He brought his hands down onto the table across from her and leaned into her face. “We just need you to interpret it.” 

Sakura’s head whipped up and she blinked owlishly. She hadn’t seen it earlier, but now his green eyes were flashing with something she was quite familiar with. She lowered her gaze to the folder. And slowly, so  _ slowly— _ she opened it. Sakura’s breath caught in her throat, and for the first time in a few days, a sense of clarity settled over her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please please pleeeaaaseee let me know if i write something that pulls you out of the experience too much--a piece of writing is only as good as the audience interprets it to be. nothing is ever written in stone, and if i don't like something im not afraid to change it. thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we learn more about sakura and the people she surrounds herself with

A few hours away, outside of a modest, beige apartment complex, Ino Yamanaka huffed impatiently on the front steps of the building. She balanced iced coffee and a bakery box in one hand and called Sakura’s number once again. The blonde had  rang her doorbell for nearly a minute straight but still didn’t get an answer. She grumbled and muttered curses under her breath, and began ringing the doorbells of strangers in the building. Someone was bound to be expecting company—even in the early morning. After a few moments, the lock on the door buzzed open. Ino and Sakura had been roommates in college—they had shared their first apartment together when Sakura wasn’t away on her expeditions. Ino was well aware of Sakura’s drive to  _ connect. _ It was something they had bonded over before they were friends. 

Ino smiled to herself while the elevator rose to Sakura’s floor. They had been so spiteful towards each other—so mean. Nowadays, they knew better. They tried to be better than their own internalized misogyny. The girls had saved each other from themselves too many times to count. Ino still wrinkled her nose when Sakura showed her musty pots and rocks and vases and  _ bones _ . She shivered. Ino remembered hazy nights and brilliant hangovers. She couldn’t wait to see Sakura again—it hadn’t been the longest they’d been apart, but they both felt the distance all the same. Ino remembered the glimmer that filled Sakura’s eyes, the too-wide smile that pulled her face just a little farther past comfortable, the contented sighs she made when they snuck out late at night—to look at the stars that hung low in the sky. 

“I’m  gonna find it,” her eyes were glazed over and distant, “I’m  gonna find it one day, and all the people in the world will see.” They had both drunk too much that night.

Sakura didn’t speak of her grandfather often, but Ino understood that his memory drove Sakura in a way that nothing else could.  _ Human connection _ . Sakura and Ino had been woven together through their shared ambition—even if Ino strived for a more  _ glamorous _ show, they performed for the people, all the same.

The little bell above her head chimed, and Ino powered down the hall. A tight ball of anxiety had gripped her heart since she managed to get a ticket to visit Konoha. The floors were covered in a navy carpeting that failed to hide years of stains and ick. Ino’s made to call out as she reached the door, but her heart caught in her chest. The door frame was torn into and the door had been swung wide open. Sakura’s apartment had been ransacked. Furniture was upturned, papers littered every inch of the floor, and as she stepped further in, even the cabinets had been taken out and emptied onto the ground. The walls, which were usually decorated with plaques and papers and maps, were practically bare, some of the larger pieces were half-torn and hanging, still. Ino’s breathing began to quicken, and she ran further in. The bathroom, the bedroom, the closet—nothing had been spared. She took a few minutes to gather herself, leaning against the empty bedframe. Ino’s hands shook, but she managed to call the right number. A woman’s disgruntled voice snarled out from the other end.

“Who is this?” Ino sniffled, but spoke anyway.

“She’s gone.” She choked out. “She’s gone and her apartment’s a wreck and I don’t know where she is,” Ino knew she was rambling, “Do you know where she is?”

The grumbling on the other end of the line stopped.

lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

Before the hour was up, there were police scouring through Sakura’s apartment. They picked through the wreckage and looked through the belongings Ino had brought with her too. A young man had taken her into the hall and gentled her down from hysteria, asking questions and soothing.

The woman Ino had called turned out to be Sakura’s boss. A mentor of sorts, to Sakura—they had gone on a venture that had lasted nearly half a year, and Sakura never shut up about it. When she came through the elevator doors, blonde and tall, with a posse in line behind her, Ino knew she had made the right choice in calling her. This woman had spent her life solving ancient mysteries—she meant business. 

Two dark-haired girls stepped at her heels. The taller, older of the two had a camera strung and held a leash attached to a shaggy  dog, with mottled fur and perked up ears . The shorter girl had her hands full with journals, documents, and pens. As they got closer, Ino furrowed her brows and tried to place the fumbling girl in her mind. 

Ino stood up and straightened herself. Tear tracks had run dried down her cheeks, and she was sure her skirt would need dry-cleaned from sitting on the nasty navy carpeting—but she did the best she could. She cleared her throat, and when Dr. Senju got to her, she shook her hand. The tall woman smiled warmly.

“Sakura speaks quite highly of you.” Ino blushed.

“I’m honored.” She shifted her feet. “She’s only told me good things about you, as well.” Tsunade threw her head back and laughed. The sound was just as bright as the rest of her.

“Lies,” she wiped a tear from her eye, “lies, all of it—I'm sure.”

Ino’s eyes widened, and she quickly moved to the girls trailing behind the woman. Ino tilted her head and gasped.

“I  _ knew _ I recognized you!” She smiled, for the first time since she got to Sakura’s apartment. “ Hyuuga , right? We graduated together!” 

The girl nodded her head and thrust a hand out, straight in front of her, clutching her journals close to her chest.

“Hinata  Hyuuga .” The girl’s dark hair nearly covered her face, but a shy small was still visible. “It is good to see you again, Ino—though, I sincerely wish the circumstances were better.” Ino’s lips thinned. Before she could meet the third one, the one holding the dog’s leash, Dr. Senju stormed forward to speak with the police officers scouring the place. The girls hurriedly followed. The third one waved as she passed Ino, smiling genially.

“The name’s  Shizune , Miss Yamanaka, and we will resolve all this in no time—you can have faith in us!” The dog strained to get into the apartment, nearly dragging her along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why are there an extra set of notes at the end of each chapter and how do i make it stopppppp


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> basically eight-hundred words of: sakura hates the ocean and stops to think about the akatsuki's motivation for finding an already lost treasure

Sakura had never liked the ocean. It was too deep, too dark—she could never know enough about it to feel safe in its depths. Her grandfather had always told her she didn’t have the right temperament for fishing; she remembered being years younger and indignant at being told she couldn’t do something. An image of him, lounging back in a worn leather chair, jeering, flashed through her mind.  _ Brat _ , he would tell her,  _ you think you know better? _

Sakura heaved dry over the shiny railing of the boat. The rounded metal railing dug into her hips, letting her lean further out, bent over at the waist. They had been on  Kisame’s little white boat house for an hour. She had spent the last forty-five minutes of it  wretching and coughing up everything in her but her own damn lungs. A hearty laugh rattled her skull. For all the years she had spent dedicated to exploring the world and learning about people—it had never occurred to her that the open ocean could have such an affect on her. 

Her knees shook and she let her gut sag into the railing further; the metal had warmed to her body as she dripped with cool sweat. The boat lurched and heaved, suddenly, and she was nearly knocked over the side and into the battering waves. A hand snapped out and grabbed her by the back of her jacket, pulling her firmly back onto the boat. She was grateful for a fleeting moment, before she remembered her present company. She turned to see who had deigned to help her, but was faced with  Kisame’s stupid sharp grin. Sakura paled even further—if it was possible. She spit bile into the waves before turning to him.

“Shouldn’t you be steering?” She breathed out. 

“If I did that,” he started, “then who would save sea-sick doctors from drowning?” He teased. 

She huffed. “The same people who would leave sleeping doctors in their own home.” She spat. “Presumably.”

He settled his hand heavily on her shoulder, and pulled her into standing upright. She held a firm grip on the railing, still, unsteady on her feet. She risked a glanced away from line where the sky met the sea, and risked a glance at her new clothes; a full set of utility cotton/poly blend she was sure none of them had picked out. She had been thrown a weighty duffel with gear of similar make before they left the shipping yard and the  container she had been held in. She was relieved to see she hadn’t gotten her own sick splattered onto her—from what she gathered, there wasn’t exactly a full wardrobe to take advantage of.

Kisame leaned bodily onto the railing, casting a cool shadow onto her. He sighed.

“You should have said--”

She cut him off with a glower. “If I’d known; I would have.” 

He jerked his head to the shut door leading into the cabin, where her other two captors were no-doubt lying in wait. The furrow in her brow deepened.

“There’s medicine you can take.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Forgive me, if I’m not willing to take drugs from criminals. Why ask, anyway?” She tilted her head. “Evidently, drugging women without their consent is right up  your alley.”

She felt a deep-seated satisfaction when he winced at that. From the trip here, she had discovered that he was the most  _ socially aware _ , for lack of a better term, of the three of them.

He had said her “sea-legs” would come with more time, but Sakura would rather she be off the damn boat, so she could make full use of her normal legs. She reluctantly let herself be led to the door, gripping his forearm so her nails dug into his skin, her hand not being nearly large enough to wrap around his wrist, even.

The door led into a cramped cabin, where anything that wasn’t in immediate use had been secured in one way or another. Even before getting on the boat, Sakura could tell it wasn’t exactly new. When she explore the interior half an hour before, she immediately recognized it as a lived-in space—not big enough for four people to comfortable travel for too long, but big enough. 

She had wondered why an organization like the  _ Akatsuki _ wouldn’t take advantage of a larger vessel. Something more fitting of the treasure they set out to find.  _ If there really was anything to find. _ A voice deep inside her hissed and spat venom. If an age-old league of criminals had survived the test of time, there was no reason to believe they didn’t already have the resources they needed to continue their ways in relative safety. Did they really need her to act as their hound; to point them down an already bloodied path? _ Surely, _ she thought,  _ they could just follow the trail of death from the fools who ventured before them.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dear god i wrote three versions of this chapter--glad i did, though, they all kinda sucked to be fair  
> also i'm trying to be more transparent about everyone's roles in the story but i think it comes off as a little too much sometimes and may not read as well as i think it is. i really do have a plan for the story im just bad at sticking to it lmao  
> here's a bit from the next chapter to assuage my own guilt:
> 
> He waved a hand, pointedly. “Really, it’s all red tape and rules and protocols. Tell me, how long does it take for you to find funding for a dig? To fill out forms and beg for research grants? To prove yourself over and over again only to be held back by platitudes and bureaucracy?” 
> 
> She clenched her jaw, and took a breath before trusting herself to speak again. 
> 
> “And I suppose you know better?” She asked.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not an expert on much of this stuff but I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head, so please bear with me in some suspension of disbelief--I will absolutely be revising as I go, and I will absolutely make many mistakes. Thank you for reading!


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